Kissed and Conquered

Chapter Eleven: Public Displays and Private Debts

The air in the shared doctors’ office was thick with the overpowering scent of Chanel No. 5, weaponized to apocalyptic levels. Emily Harper’s head throbbed as Dr. Vanessa Kline’s perfume assaulted her senses like a floral tsunami. She stepped back, fanning the air and pinching her nose. “Who’s this?” she asked, trying not to gag.

Vanessa, mid-lipstick application, shot her a look that could curdle milk. “Wow, newbie, didn’t even Google your coworkers? That’s a fail in my book.”

A junior doctor, clearly over Vanessa’s attitude, leaned in and whispered to Emily, “That’s Dr. Vanessa Kline, ER doc and… the dean’s niece. Total nepotism vibes.”

Nepo baby, huh? Emily gave the junior doc a grateful nod, then sized Vanessa up—blonde curls, painted nails, and heels that screamed ‘runway, not ER.’ “Last I checked,” Emily said, her voice dripping with calm defiance, “doctors have a dress code. No dyed hair, no caked-on makeup, no claw-like nails, and definitely no perfume that could knock out a rhino. Oh, and those stilettos? A lawsuit waiting to happen in the ER. As the dean’s niece, shouldn’t you be setting an example, Dr. Kline?”

Vanessa’s eyes bulged, her manicured finger jabbing at Emily like a tiny, glittery spear. “You’ve got some nerve, Harper! A rookie with zero clout, lecturing me? Think one surgery under Brooks’ wing makes you hot stuff? Keep dreaming!”

“I never said that,” Emily replied, cool as a cucumber. “But wow, your imagination’s running wilder than a sci-fi flick.”

“You—!” Vanessa stomped her foot, her ten-inch heels clacking like a jackhammer. Emily, still nursing her sprained ankle, winced, half-expecting Vanessa to topple over and start a domino effect of chaos.

Vanessa sneered, leaning in. “Don’t get cocky, Harper. Word’s out—you kissed Dr. Brooks in public, trying to climb the ladder with your lips. Skills won’t save you when everyone knows you’re a schemer. You’ll be out of here faster than you can say ‘unemployment.’”

Emily’s face hardened. “Dr. Kline, I respect your seniority, but watch your mouth. Slinging rumors without proof? That’s called slander, and I’m not above a lawsuit.”

“Slander? The whole hospital saw you!” Vanessa scoffed. “Unless you’re saying Brooks kissed you first. What a—”

“Actually, yeah, I kissed her first,” a smooth voice interrupted, like a hero stepping into a showdown. Before Emily could turn, Nathan Brooks tugged her into his chest, his minty cologne a welcome relief from Vanessa’s perfume assault. “Got a problem with that?”

“Dr… Brooks?” Vanessa’s jaw hit the floor, her body swaying like she’d been hit with a plot twist.

The other doctors froze, exchanging wide-eyed looks like they’d stumbled into a soap opera. Emily’s brain short-circuited. What the hell is he doing?

“Hey, you—” Emily started, but her words cut off as Nathan scooped her up in his arms, her feet dangling like a rom-com heroine. His brow furrowed, his voice laced with mock scolding. “Didn’t I tell you to stay off that ankle, Harper? Gotta listen to your doctor. Point me to your desk—I’m carrying you.”

Emily swallowed hard, her heart doing somersaults. Nathan’s chiseled face was way too close, his hazel eyes practically sparkling with trouble. This man’s a walking heart attack, she thought, clutching his shirt. “Uh, Dr. Brooks, are we… misreading the room here?” she whispered, leaning toward his ear.

Their position—her nestled in his arms, whispering like lovers—looked straight out of a rom-com to the gawking office. Nathan tilted his head, his breath brushing her ear with a low, “Hmm?” that sent shivers down her spine. His brow quirked, and Emily nearly slapped her hand over her nose to stop a mortifying nosebleed. God, why is he so good at this? I’m not built for this level of charm!

The junior doctors gasped, one practically fanning herself. A quick-thinking intern darted to Emily’s desk, stammering, “D-Dr. Brooks, her spot’s right here!” Please put her down before we all choke on this PDA, his eyes seemed to beg.

“Thanks,” Nathan said, flashing a grin that could’ve sold toothpaste. He carried Emily to her chair, setting her down with exaggerated care. Her face was redder than a fire truck, her pulse racing like she’d sprinted a marathon. She stared at the floor, muttering, “So, uh, Dr. Brooks, what’s… the deal?”

Nathan, clearly enjoying himself, ruffled her hair like she was his favorite puppy. “You forgot your meds, you little klutz,” he said, plunking a can of medicated spray on her desk. “Can’t have my star surgeon hobbling around.”

Little klutz? Emily’s brain screamed, picturing herself as a cartoon character bawling into a handkerchief. She wanted to grab Nathan’s sleeve and beg, Dude, chill! I’m trying to survive this hospital, not star in a rom-com! Vanessa’s glare was practically nuclear, and Emily braced for future revenge.

“T-Thanks,” she choked out, each word feeling like a plea for mercy.

“Oh, one more thing,” Nathan said, his tone suspiciously casual. Emily glanced up, curious despite herself.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a velvet whisper that made her face ignite. “You owe me another favor, Harper. That’s, what, three now? Better start keeping a tab.”

Another?! Emily’s jaw dropped. Did he have to rub it in with three reminders? And this favor? She’d rather return it with a gift receipt. Take it back, you menace!

Nathan straightened, tossing a cheery wave to the stunned doctors before sauntering out like he’d just won an Oscar. Emily stared at the spray can, torn between laughing and crying. Why did I kiss this guy? If she could rewind time, she’d pick anyone—anyone—else. Hell, she’d rather not work at St. Mary’s at all than deal with Nathan Brooks’ chaos.

Vanessa’s eyes burned holes into her, and Emily sighed. Great. Now I’ve got a sprained ankle, a debt to a flirt, and a new enemy. Day one’s going swell.